The Artist Formerly Known as Birthday Prince?

Seeing as my 27th birthday took place just a day or so ago (Monday, March 24, to be exact!), here's an odd b-day tale for ya.

Many years ago, I had a fight with my parents. Yes, my parents and I have our fair share of smackdowns.

I'm not sure what the fight was about--it's not that important, to be honest. I just remember is so well because it took place the night before my birthday. I mean, there was screaming, finger-pointing, name-calling...the works. It was one of the few times my parents and I went to bed angry at one another.

Then something strange happened when I woke up. My parents were smiling at me, wishing me "Happy Birthday!!!"

It was as if the fight had never taken place. It was as if I had entered The Twilight Zone (or The Outer Limits, depending upon which sci-fi netherworld you prefer). The whole day continued on in the same manner: smiles, hugs, kisses...hell, I even got presents!! And cake!! Can't go wrong there!! Let's just say I went to bed feeling like the Birthday Prince that I was, that day.

And then I woke up, the next morning. And my parents were no longer smiling. They were yelling at me and arguing with me. It was as if they had never missed a beat. It was like a seamless transition from the day before my birthday to the day after my birthday. I'll never forget it.

Now, this is in no way me writing about what a poor soul I am or that I had a terrible, horrible, broken childhood. Fuck that!! I had a wonderful childhood and I adore my parents and we have a very healthy relationship. I consider them to be two of my best friends.

On the contrary, my point in telling that yarn is to illustrate how sacred birthdays have come to be for me and my family.

Recently, a friend of mine (COUGH! Kevin! COUGH!!) brought it to my attention that I make too big of a deal about them, that they're just another day and to get over myself. And said friend has made a very similar points regarding how I seem to make more of a hoopla on certain days than they actually merit--in particular, The Liz Factor.

In this case, I think we'll have to agree to disagree.

I'm sorry, but to me, birthdays are--and always will be--extremely important! As I've mentioned in past entries, so often we walk through our daily lives like zombies. So what if there's a day that we can actually say, "guess what, motherfuckers, er, friends and family!! Today is my day!! Sing your praises for me as I am fabulous and wonderful!!! Celebrate that I am in your life and that you love me for it!! Long story short, PAMPER ME, GODDAMMIT!!!!"

I mean, at the very least, a card and a balloon--maybe a Best Buy gift certificate...just throwin' it out there, people!!--would be nice. I mean, really...is that asking for too much?

The way I see it is we are the product of some pretty freaky shit: Chemicals, hormones, bodily fluids...blood, sweat and tears (okay...maybe not the last three, but they seemed to just go with the rest, so I went for it). How the fuck we didn't turn out to be weird amoeba-like creatures, I'll never be able to understand!! But here we are!! And that is really something. And we each took about nine months to get here. And let's face it: not all of us survive that journey, whether it be as a result of a miscarriage, an abortion or some tragedy that I can't think of at the moment.

And even then, once we're born, there are no promises that we'll be around to see a full year, much less the ripe ol' age of 27. If there's anything I've learned during this life it's this: When your number's up, your numbers up.

That, and you need to celebrate each of those numbers as if they'd be your last.

That's what I plan on doing every year. If that makes me a horrible, self-indulgent, arrogant little shit of a Birthday Prince, than so be it.

You may think me that, by all means. Please do.

Just know this, though: While you're wearing a frowny face and being a bitterman...I get to wear a crown.

Even if it's just for a day.